Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure of the answer to that question yet. I’m still thinking about it.

On good days, my thoughts go something like this:

Why the heck not? You love to write, you’ve got things to say, you enjoy the commentary on life with two boys, and it makes you a more observant person. Why not blog? Who cares if no one reads it? Mom will read it, and that’s enough, right? And anyway, you’re not doing this for anyone else. It’s purely for pleasure. So just get on with it. You can do it.

And on bad days, my thoughts can go down the black hole like this (and let me just say, this is a very modified version of what the black hole sounds like):

Who do you think you are? You don’t have anything interesting to say. Everyone is going to think you are arrogant and vain, are you seriously calling yourself some kind of genius? Please … do you seriously think this writing can amount to anything? And even if you start, are you going to keep up with it, or is this just going to be another thing you don’t finish? Get real. Just buy yourself a few nice pens and stick to your journaling.

So as you can see, it’s taken a few months (years) of wondering whether I should just take the plunge and do it.

But you know, I’m forty now. (have I said that already?)

So I’m just gonna go ahead and DO IT. All this thinking is just getting plain old, like me.

But here’s the deal (and I’m really talking to myself here). I am doing this for ME. If you like it, great! If you follow along, fantastic! But I’m writing for myself, because I like to write, because it’s a creative outlet I might otherwise let wither. Because it’s a space for me to work things out. To remind myself that I am woman first, mother second. (despite the blog's subtitle). That I DO have opinions, thoughts, ideas. So I am claiming this space for me and mine. Enter at your own risk please. (and thank you!)